<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>yet saved by rainbeep</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27930961">yet saved</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbeep/pseuds/rainbeep'>rainbeep</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brush With Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, I Made Myself Cry, Not Beta Read, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, The Vault Spoilers, blood &amp; violence warning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:27:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>752</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27930961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbeep/pseuds/rainbeep</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He would die here. He would die here, a dragon snapping it’s jaws in his face, his last words grieving over a brother he hadn’t ever truly deserved. </p><p>Emmanellain visits Haurchefant's memorial, and a knight's job is never over.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Emmanellain de Fortemps &amp; Haurchefant Greystone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>yet saved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     Perhaps this was to be his fate, his blood spattering over Haurchefant’s memorial and the iced over flowers laid there preserved by the cold. Perhaps he deserved this, years of being cowed and seeking solace under his brother’s wing.</p><p>     Halone was nothing if but cruel, a mistress who held her anger within icicle talons and scarcely forgot when she had been wronged. And she <em>had</em> been wronged, one of her best knights ripped from her far too early.</p><p>     He deserved this.</p><p>     Emmanellain was few things, and a coward was one of them. He were no knight; the sword on his hip had not been earned but <em>given</em>, Haurchefant’s blade weighing wrongly in his palm. He couldn’t go wandering near Providence Point without <em>something</em>, and - ...</p><p>     Emmanellain was few things. Sentimental was another.</p><p>     He had skirted past snow wolves and icy, aetherical beings that spun and danced when he came too close, the trek to the outlook silent in a way that rose hair on his neck. But he were not one to look wayward at Halone’s grace, and it was with a tired clink of his armor that he fell to his knees.</p><p>     <em>He had been too long in coming</em>, he wanted to say.<em> He was sorry </em>was yet another, the words bubbling to the surface where he sat, the wind whipping his hair and brushing loose snow from the top of Haurchefant’s memorial.</p><p>     Emmanellain wasn’t sure how long he had lingered, watching the dusk delve into stars, the Holy See of Ishgard slowly becoming alight across the sea of fog and clouds. Two bells or three, or four - ... long enough for the cold to burn his cheeks and settle into his chainmail like it belonged.</p><p>     When he stood, his joint’s protests masking the snapping of twigs behind him, he barely recognized his own voice, tired from the journey here and rough with misuse.</p><p>    “... I miss you, Haurchefant.”</p><p>     And then he turned, eyes meeting a wyvern that had landed a mere yalm behind him. When it opened it’s maw, a shriek ringing out and ridding the trees of their snowy blankets, he knew he was not going home.</p><p>     It lunged, sending the Fortemps boy stumbling over ice and the flowers laid at his brother’s headstone. He scrambled, fighting to get his arm through the strap on his shield, when it snapped it’s teeth and twisted it’s neck -</p><p>     and sent the unicorn-crested shield sliding over snow, teetering over the edge of the overlook, before it fell. The echoes of his hope hitting rocks and ledges filled the air.</p><p>     “<em>No --”</em></p><p>Clawed wings found purchase, knocking Emmanellain to the ground. His armor was suited for weapon attacks, not beasts - not <em>wyvern</em>, their grip tightening until it tore through the metal like parchment.</p><p>     He would die here.</p><p>     He would die here, a dragon snapping it’s jaws in his face, his last words grieving over a brother he hadn’t ever truly deserved. His own shriek took flight in the sky as the beast sank teeth into his shoulder, his blood marring the snow and the headstone and the shield beside it.</p><p>     -- The <em>shield</em> --</p><p>     He flailed, grappling with the sword in his palm, his opposite hand dancing across the snow and begging for purchase against what remained of his brother. With not a sound, his fingers brushed against it, the metal teetering into his hand.</p><p>     Haurchefant’s sword had sliced through the beast’s wing, and it reeled back, finally releasing Emmanellain’s shoulder. He snatched up his brother’s shield, staring the dragon in the eye through the torn metal as it made to lunge once more -</p><p>     and drove his sword through the gaping maw of Haurchefant’s shield. The sword seated itself through the dragon’s mouth and back out it’s skull. The silence that followed as Emmanellain caught his breath, the dragon’s corpse sagging down the bloodied blade, only lasted for a few moments.</p><p>      “Haurchefant -”</p><p>      He choked on his sobs, violently ridding the beast off his person. His shoulder screamed it’s agony, both his own blood and the wyvern’s spattering the one place his brother should have been at peace.</p><p>     “Thank you,” he wept, crawling the distance. When he pressed his back into the memorial, he knew it would be the closest to an embrace he would ever get from Haurchefant again.</p><p>      He would not die here. Not today, the broken shield smeared with dragon blood, lying in the snow as a reminder. Even gone, Haurchefant had found a way to be the knight Emmanellain would never be.</p><p>     “Thank you,” he whispered.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>